heart scan

Here I sit in the morning, once again waking with the suffering of the world on my heart. Here I sit, seeking to discern what is mine to do, scanning volunteer agencies for the need that my heart can fill. Or is it vice versa- the need that can fill my heart?

Scanning my heartI ask these questions

Is it fair to have dismissed this feeling in me as the mere neurosis of one who has anxiety about ‘being enough’ and ‘earning love’? What am i seeking in this- is it a martyr complex, a hero one? Why must every deep human desire be pathologized?

What is this feeling in me? It feels like compassion – that is honest and true. It feels like a callthat is less clear, quite strong but a sound i do not quite recognize. It is true, there is guilt entangled in it- how can i just stand by and watch?- is that a worthy motivator? It seeks action, this compassion in me contains a lot of passion in its desire to be ‘with’. Who am I called to Be at this time? Can i sort my desire to help from my resistance to being told that i can’t?

and so i sit, when i want to jump, and i wonder how i will feel in the end if i do nothing?

images yesterday of chaplains in masks , behind glass…. how to shatter that glass, reach through that wall and administer human touch. makeshift hospitals evoke images of similar ones from previous eras- during wars and epidemics, nurses in starched white aprons, sisters of mercy, showing up… because they were called, because they could not standby, because it is what human beings do.

st francis holding the leper; etty walking into the camp.

perhaps i am truly a coward. it is perhaps too easy to lament feeling helpless when i am being commanded not to help. if push came to shove, would i defy? is it easy to feign nobility from within this safe prison? Words are cheap.

Heaven help me

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